Nowhere to Go & Nobody to Be
by everfaraway
Summary: After the end of the battle against Loki, three members of the Avengers have nowhere to go. No family. No friends. Steve finds himself worrying about Clint & Natasha. So in the aftermath he & they consider what the other is like. And together they form a sort of strange little family. Established BlackHawk. Clint/Tasha/Steve friendship & family.
1. Loyalty Like That Can't Be Bought

That Kind of Loyalty Can't Be Bought

**_Author: after looking up Natasha/Steve fics & finding a few Tasha/Clint/Steve fics in there I decided to  
write this. Established BlackHawk The trio are very interesting to consider together. I own nothing._**

They were exhausted, all of them.

The Soldier. The God. The billionaire. The Scientist. The Spy. The Hawk.

Steve. Thor. Tony. Bruce. Natasha. Clint.

They met Fury on the top of Stark Tower where there was a Helipad (seldom used by Tony but often by others) with Loki under very close guard. Steve wanted him gone. Thor wanted things to return to how they used to be. Tony wanted him far, far away from his Tower. Bruce didn't care what happened to him. Natasha wanted to rip his poisonous tongue from his mouth. Clint... Clint wanted to put an arrow through his eye socket, wanted to flay the flesh from his bones only to stop and watch it grow back before repeating the process, wanted to cut him into tiny pieces while he was still alive to hear him scream and a thousand other things. He wanted to rape Loki as Loki had raped him. He wanted to jerk Loki's head back by the hair, force him to show his throat and make him submit as Loki had done to him. He wanted to unmake the mischief God in every way. Only Fury's dangerous glare that promised severe reprimands and Tasha's familiar weight leaning against him had stopped him. That had been half an hour ago.

As the elevator opened to admit them back into the sitting room (with its new Loki shaped dent in the floor) Tasha felt her foot turn under her and she almost hit the floor as her knee gave out as well. A strong hand on her upper arm and a strong set of arms (one around her waist and the other under her other arm) only let her fall into a crouch. Her mind went about trying to shut off; she was too exhausted to think.

"Lady Romanoff?" Thor's booming voice asked. There was concern in his tone but... it was far too loud. Especially when it echoed.

"Turn the volume down big guy. Some of us have headaches." That was Clint of course. She'd recognize his voice on her deathbed. Even exhausted, battered and in the worst shape of them all, he still managed to a bit of a smart ass.

"Ma'am?" asked a still unfamiliar voice from above her. She lifted her head a bit and saw the blue suit of the man who had spoken. Captain America, of course.

"I'm fine. My knee gave out is all." she said, putting her weight on her uninjured leg and forcing herself up. One hand went to Clint's shoulder, nail's biting into his unprotected and battered flesh. "Sorry." she muttered when he hissed in pain. She forced her fingers to relax a bit, releasing him just a bit.

"You should sit down. Take a rest and get off your knee before you hurt yourself further." Steve said as he continued to hold onto her upper arm to support her. Unlike most men, his eyes remained on her face and never once strayed to her cleavage, long legs or skin-tight cat suit. Both she and Clint are impressed by this fact but neither says a word about it... now. They'll discuss it later. If at all.

"Probably should." she agreed softly as a wave of dizziness threatened to bring her to her knees. Clint recognized her unsteadiness and slid an arm around her waist gently. Clint and Steve shared a long look before the soldier released Natasha into the archer's arms. He didn't doubt that the other man could look after her. He is just extremely concerned for her safety, being the only woman on the team and it's in his nature to worry about any woman.

"Tell me your name." Clint said in Russian, looking at Natasha.

"Natasha Romanoff." she answered, glaring at him. Her answer was in English. She'd never speak her birth name among strangers and Clint knew this.

"Who am I?" Clint asked in English, easing her onto the couch.

"An idiot." she growled in Hungarian, as she leaned back and let him pull off her boots. She flinched when he pulled the right one off.

"Wrong answer." he reminded her, staying knelt in front of her. He pulled his bow from his back and balanced it on his knee. "Might want to get your side looked at Cap. We're gonna be a few Doc." the archer said, moving back to English.

"So should you. That's a lot of glass." Steve said, looking at the wound on his side. It had hurt some originally, though it had surprised him more than anything. Chitauri blasters packed a punch.

"I've had worse. We're used to waiting on medical." Clint assured him. Steve pulled off his uniform shirt and glanced at the scars on Clint's arms. Some were small, probably had been shallow. Others were large, rougher looking. He almost wanted to ask what had caused them but he didn't dare. It wasn't his right to know if the archer didn't want to give out that information.

"Clinton Francis Barton. My partner and lover." Tasha whispered in french, leaning forward to stroke his cheek.

"That's my girl." he whispered in the same beautiful language. As he spoke, his hands had been busy working on his bow and now Steve could see why. He had removed the scope (which Steve doubted got much use). "Don't blink." Clint told her, jumping into Germany as he shined the scope's laser into her eyes to check her pupil's dilation.

"Idiot." she muttered.

"Remember what the Doctor said: you blink, you die." Clint chuckled, switching back to English with a british accent.

"I would say that I don't think the Stone Angel's exist but with all we've seen recently..." Doctor Banner smirked, as he pushed his glasses up his nose to give Steve's wound a better look at it.

"Hulk smash stone angels?" Clint laughed softly as he moved to sit by Tasha. He cringed inwardly as he did and began to put his scope back on his bow.

"More than likely yes." Banner smirked.

"Now that I'm out of dodge of a concussion I'm going to sleep." Tasha said, leaning against Clint's side.

"You're already healing Cap. Go take a few to clean up." Doctor Banner said before carefully approaching the agents. He looked both Clint and Tasha over, trying to decide who needed medical attention more. Clint looked worse by far with all that glass in his arms and back.

"Her first. Temple, busted lip, right knee, same foot." Clint told him. He knew what Bruce had been doing when he looked them over. Yes he was battered, bloody, exhausted, starving, would have nightmares for a long time but Tasha was his responsibility. And she was always the one who would be looked after first. That was one of the many unspoken and undebatable rules in their "relationship."

It surprised Steve how Clint listed off Natasha's injuries despite the pain the soldier knew the archer was in. But his surprise didn't last long. He had never met a man tougher or more loyal. He placed his needs on the back burner for Natasha, asking after her when they were doing role call. He had followed her into this war despite whatever Loki had done to him.

"Do I need to be concerned with her wanting to maim, kill or disembowel me later?" Bruce asked. Steve can't tell if he's joking, being serious or somewhere in between.

"No you're doing it with my permission and under my supervision. She won't hurt you." Clint chuckled. The archer's blue grey eyes turned towards him and he said, "Aren't you supposed to be getting cleaned up Cap?"

"Take care of them Mr. Banner." Steve said, nodding first to Clint then to Banner. Tony pointed him in the direction of nearest shower and as he walked, he realized that the loyalty and trust the agents had with each other was exactly like the loyalty and trust between him and his men back during the war. It couldn't be bought. It couldn't be sold. It could only be earned through learning how to watch each other's back in life or death situations.


	2. The Pain You Never Really Heal From

The Pain You Never Really Heal From

**_Author: A friend who was raped several times told me you never really heal from the pain of it. As a victim of  
sexual assault I know this to be true as well. Contains extremely sensative material. _**

"Your turn Agent Barton." Doctor Banner said gently. Natasha had slept through having her knee and ankle wrapped. She had tensed and stirred when Banner had worked on her temple and gently dabbed at her busted lip. But under Clint's watchfull gaze she had slept peacefully.

"**_Tasha you gotta move baby._**"he whispered in Russian. She responded best to her native language when she was waking up. She moved a bit, dropping her nose against his arm that was around the front of her shoulders. After settling down she had wound up with her spine against his rib cage and her neck turned just enough to rest her cheek against his arm.

"**_Time to move?_**"she yawned, responding in the same. Her accent's thicker with sleep but he understands her just fine none the less.

"**_Medical._**" her reminded her, flexing his shooting hand carefully. From fingertip to wrist is sore. If there wasn't an arrow and/or in his hand these past few days it was a gun... nonestop. It wasn't the first time but it still hurt the same every time.

"I'd like to lay him down on the couch. It will make it easier to tend to his wounds." Banner told her. Niether Tasha or Clint miss the way he looks at her. Banner, like so many other men, ended up attracted to her body. She has always been attractive and she's used it to her advantage a thousand times. However they both know that Banner would not try to move on her. He either lacked the confidence or didn't trust himself with her.

Natasha slides to the arm of the couch and settles in. "**_He did a good job._**" she notes. Her foot and knee don't hurt much to move... not nearly as much as they did before.

"**_Didn't take him long either. You were out maybe twenty minutes._**" Clint agreed. Twenty minutes she had been vulnerable but not so much because he had looked after her. As he had for years. As he had for almost a decade. Their eyes met, blue grey and forest green, then they were both lost in a world that belonged to them and them alone. Years of memories resided there: good, bad and somewhere in between. Years of sex, secrets and injuries, hidden away where nobody (not even Loki and for that Clint was grateful) could corrupt them.

"Vest off please and any under shirts as well." Banner said, breaking them out of their private world.

Clint's eyes left Tasha's and flicked around the room, his personal tell that he was nervous. Last time he had been shirtless in a room of strangers, Loki had decided to make an example of him. He had ordered to shoot Fury in the head, not the bulletproof armor but he had refused the command to kill Fury. He knew his superior was the only man who could find a way to stop Loki. He was able to pull the strings and pool the proper resources to gather the Avengers and make them work together. "Clint." Tasha whispered, as she touched his face as she tried to reassure him. He flinched from her touch and his head swung towards the door at the sound of footsteps. There stood Captain America in civilian clothes, looking as if he had just gotten done working out in the gym and not fighting an alien race led by a god with an overly inflated ego. It made Clint sick.

"What did Loki do to you Agent Barton?" Cap asked gently.

Clint ground his teeth together and almost smarted off but he bit his tongue (just barely). The pain from his injuries was fueling his temper and he knew better than to be an asshole when he was hurt. He said alot of things he didn't mean. His father and brother had been the same way... except they lacked his self control. "You wanna know what Loki did to me Cap?" he asked, getting to his feet. His body protested the very thought of getting up but he ignored it. "He made an example out of me. Used me to show Selvig and all the rest what happens when you disobey him." he growled, forcing his hands to unzip his vest and let it slip to the floor. The black wife beater he wore under it was covered in blood (some of it his own), dirt, ash, sweat and had rips all along the back. Loki had not allowed any of them to eat, sleep, shower or change clothes.

Every head in the room swiveled in his direction when he let the wife beater drop to the floor. The archer was just as attractive as his female counterpart. While Tasha has long legs, a slender waist and ample cleavage, Clint was broad shouldered and stocky with an amazing set of abs. "And that gentlemen is what SHIELD turns you into, a very attractive but cruel as hell killing machine. If you need another example, look at Widow." Tony said, motioning first to Clint then to Natasha. Clint smirked at the billionare's attempt at humor.

"**_I thought you said he was straight as a ruler._**" Clint said, looking at Tasha.

"**_Every ruler had a little curve and each one tapers off at some point. I'd guess his tapers off at 7 or 8 inches._**" Tasha chuckled

"**_You are mean._**" Clint admitted as he turned slowly to expose his back to Banner. The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Everyone had known about the glass but the multitude of other injuries was alarming. His back was smeared with blood from gashes and what looked like scratches on his shoulder blades. His entire rip cage on his left side was bruised, evidence of potentionally broken ribs. The most disgusting and disturbing were the bites marks on his shoulders blades and the finger shaped bruises on his hips. A shudder raced up his spine as he felt everyone's eyes on him, cataloging the injuries.

"My brother... Loki..." Thor whispered, letting Mjolnir slid from his hand to the floor. The sound it made when it touched the floor made them all jump and Clint flinched. He ground his teeth together, wishing he could go home to his apartment and hide out there to let his wounds heal. But he knew there was no chance in hell he was gonna get out of the Tower without letting Banner take care of him.

"Rape." Tasha said. It was not a question but a statement. She found it hard to believe that anyone could force Clint to do anything and yet... his behaviour screamed that something was terribly wrong.

"The body was semi willing but the soul was not." he whispered, glancing over his shoulder gingerly. The looks on everyone else's faces ranged from sympathy (Tasha) to rage (Thor). He knew that once he was healed he wanted to find Loki, tear him open from throat to groin and let his guts spill all across the New York City skyline. The others could do what they wanted as long as he got to spill Loki's guts.

"Lay down please Agent Barton. In whatever way is most comfortable for you. Miss Romanoff could you keep him still and calm please?" Banner asked gently.

"Clint." Tasha whispered, sliding down onto the couch. He looked at her briefly and her heart hurt at what she saw. In that moment he looked worse than he had in the helicarrier. He wasn't broken... he wasn't unmade... he was close to shattering into a thousand pieces that would scatter on the wind like feathers. Slowly she reached for him, grabbing his wrist very gently and whispered, "**_You asked if I knew what it was like to be broken... to be unmade. You should have said you were so close to shattering._**"

"**_Not a toy that can be fixed. More like a sheet of glass after it's been shot with a hundred bullets. All that's left are tiny pieces. Like the ones in my arms._**" he muttered.

"**_Glass can be repaired or replaced._**" she told him. He didn't look at her as he lay down on the couch with his head in her lap. It was the most comfortable position for him given his injuries but it also meant he didn't have to look at anyone. He didn't speak or move when Banner tended to the scratch and bite marks. The bruises on his hips would heal themselves in time. The gashes and wounds from the glass however were more difficult to tend to. A particularly nasty gash or deeply embedded piece of glass made him bury his forehead against Tasha's leg and she let him dig his fingertips into her hand. But he didn't make a sound. Loki had seen him at his worst, had preyed upon his greatest fear: being helpless and had intended to break him.

***Flashback* **

_Not even the endorphins from when his body had betrayed him could make Clint any less aware of the pain he was in. His back throbbed in agony: scratches, bite and gashes left there was by Loki and that damn staff of his. He growled deep in his throat and tried to force himself up to his feet. The motion alone sent a new wave of pain through his hips, thighs and ass. He had been tortured before, several times but this... this was a whole new level of pain. Rape was nothing he had been trained for... neither was a egotistic god who had traveled through the "realms" to get to Earth or Midgard (as he called it). It left him hurting in places he didn't know he could hurt. Slowly he sank back down, panting as he tried to force the pain away. He wasn't stupid. He knew the damage that had been done. He reconized the hot fluid seeping down the back of his thighs. Muscles were torn, badly. That would take time to heal, time he probably didn't have. "You are brave archer. And strong. I was correct in choosing you." Loki's voice said from somewhere nearby. He lifted his head, silently glaring up at the dark haired god. "Defiant. I like that. But you do not appreciate the marks of your new king's favor?" Loki purred, crouching down in front of him._

_"Who the fuck would appreciate being raped!? You egotisitic, sick, dillusional, son of a bitch!" Clint shouted in his face. Phil had always warned him that his temper and smart mouth would be the death of him someday. The death of him... not yet. It had certainly gotten him stabbed, beaten, shot, strangled, almost drowned, dumped on the side of a road in hostile territory._

_"What was that you were saying my Hawk?" Loki asked, touching the tip of his staff to Clint's heart. _

_"Whatever pleases you my king." Clint's voice said as his eyes turned electric blue and his body rose to stand. In his head, Clint was seething in rage._

***Flashback***

"Anything else I should have a look at?" Banner asked as he motioned for Clint to sit up. It was time to check the severity of the archer's bruised or possibly broken ribs.

"Haven't bled since the day after." Clint whispered. He had known the unspoken question in the doctor's gaze. He flinched when the other man's hands touched his bruised side.

"What's the verdict Doctor Banner?" Tasha asked once Banner finished wrapping Clint's ribs.

"You both need to give yourselves time to heal. A couple of weeks at the least. More for your back Agent Barton." Banner told them as he wiped his hands clean on a towel Tony had tossed him.

"Doubt Fury will give us that long." Clint chuckled darkly.

"He will. I'll make sure of it." Steve told him. While Tony had left the room to talk with Pepper and Thor had flown off to examine the damage his brother had done to the city, Steve had remained behind. He had watched Banner work on Clint, the way a commander would do for one of his soldiers that he respected deeply. Clint's blue grey eyes snapped to the soldier but his expression was unreadable.

"You've got no reason to give a damn about either of us." Clint told him.

"Fighting a war against an alien race and a so called god who believes it's his birthright to rule our world isn't enough?" Steve asked with a slight smirk.

"Might be." Clint said with a chuckle.


	3. Home

Home

**_Author: Took me a while to get this one done. My little doggie decided to  
help me along one day by grabbing a pen off my floor & dumping it in my lap  
when I was reading through one of the earlier chapters. Now we are done.  
I own nobody except Miranda & Kitten. Ty for all reviews, follows & favs._**

They only saw each other once a month.

One day out of the month when they all got together and didn't their best not to kill each other.

The first meeting, the only one Fury himself attended, Clint showed up late to. According to Fury, both agents were on leave with SHIELD. As Tony put it, Clint was being required to attend "shrink sessions" for PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress was something Steve understood all too well.

As Banner had said on the Helicarrier, they were a time bomb. A recipe for chaos. And Fury wanted them to "play nice" (Clint's words not Fury's).

The second meeting, held again at the Tower, was much more akward than the first. Clint and Tasha were both extremely uneasy. They kept to themselves and mostly spoke in foreign languages. He personally only reconized German and French.

The third meeting held a couple of pleasant surprises. They met in a private boothe in some nice italian restaurant Tony liked. Apparently Tony's girlfriend decided that they'd all be more comfortable somewhere other than the Tower. But the real surprise came when the roar of a motorcyle echoed through the restaurant. Clint and Tasha walked into the restaurant and the waitress hugged them as if they were family. And so did what appeared to be almost the entire staff of the restaurant.

Tony seemed to realize that money didn't always get you the warmest welcome in some places at that very moment.

Both agents were in street clothes. Clint wore a pair of worn out jeans, a short sleeve shirt, boots and a leather jacket. Tasha wore a similiar jacket over a tank top with leather pants and boots. It was very different when Steve considered that he was used to seeing them in their SHIELD uniforms. They were both more talkative, more trusting and both even laughed a bit that afternoon. It's a side of them Steve decided he likes.

Which is why he's standing outside of Clint's apartment, ringing the doorbell after a couple of minute's hesitation. However the person who answered the door was not the person he had expected to answer. "Miss Romanoff?" he asked uncertainly. Had he gotten the address wrong?

"Evening Cap." Tasha said, leaning against the doorframe. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was dressed in a pair of torn up jeans and a short sleeve shirt that showed her stomach.

"I'm looking for Agent... Clint. I thought for a minute I had the wrong address." Steve told her.

"**_Clint? Were you expecting Steve?_**" she called over her shoulder.

"**_Not at the the moment. But I did tell he could come by if he wanted to. Let him in!_**" Clint called from within the apartment.

"Come on in." Tasha said, stepping to the side to let him inside.

As he stepped inside he noticed that the apartment was a bit more personal than he had been expecting. But what really warned his heart were what hung over the living room windows in place of curtains: an American flag and a POW/MIA flag. A Purple Heart was painted on the American flag and there were several names written on silver ink on the POW flag. "Clint is... was...?" Steve asked, looking at Tasha.

"Sgt Specialist with the Army. Three tours in Iraq. Lost a lot of good soldiers before I got sent back home." Clint said, stepping into the living room. He reconized the look in Steve's eyes when he looked at the flags hanging over his windows.

"I'm sorry. I know how that feels." Steve admitted.

"It get any easier?" Clint asked.

"Sadly no." Steve whispered.

"**_Clint? You want to invite him along?_**" Tasha asked.

"**_You want me to?_**" he asked her. She looked over at Steve and shrugged lightly, making it Clint's choice.

"Am I interrupting something? I can leave." Steve offered, taking a few steps towards the door.

"Actually Cap... we were about to go grab dinner and a few beers. Care to join us." Clint said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch.

"I don't want to intrude..." Steve began. Far from it... he wanted to join them. But not only was the current era still frightening but the two agents still struck him as cautious and secretive.

"We'd be honored if you would join us." Tasha told him gently. She could tell the soldier was uneasy with them. Not uneasy, she realized, but shy and scared. She looked over Steve's shoulder at Clint. The archer nodded, understanding the soldier's fear.

"Where are we headed?" Steve asked as a set of keys flew over his shoulder and into Tasha's hand with a flick of Clint's wrist.

"One of the my favorite places to eat in New York. We come everytime we're in the city." Clint smirked as he led the way out the door. Tasha locked the front door behind them and stuck Clint's keys in her jacket. Steve couldn't help but wonder if they lived together but he didn't dare ask.

"Best fried chicken in New York City." Tasha said after the four block walk to a little hole in the wall called Miranda's. Steve pulled his jacket off and tucked it over his shoulder.

"Miranda? We're gonna need three huge plates." Clint called, looking into the kitchen through one of the swinging doors that seperated the bar from the kitchen.

"I thought that was you Clint. And you brought your girl with you. How are you two?" a voice asked and a woman in her fourties with dark hair tied up in a bun stepped out to greet them.

"We're hanging in there. Brought a friend with us." Tasha told her, motioning to Steve.

"Nice to meet you ma'am." Steve said, nodding to her.

"Ma'am? I like this one. Where you been hiding him?" Miranda chuckled.

"He's been... away. For a long time. Our boss just found him recently and brought him back to the world." Clint told her.

"Yeah? Hey how's Phil? Haven't seen him around. I thought if you guys were here, he might be too." Miranda asked. All three of them fell silent and glanced at each other. "What happened?" Miranda whispered, pressing close to Clint and Tasha.

"He was murdered." Tasha whispered, leaning against Clint.

"I'm sorry." Miranda said, hugging them both. She nodded to Steve once. "Kitten, sweetheart. Show them to their usual boothe and get them whatever they want to drink. First round is on the house." she called over her shoulder.

"Yes Aunt Miranda." Kitten, a pretty leggy brunette who didn't look much older than twenty, showed them to a boothe near the back of the bar. "Dos Equis? Smirnoff? What else?" she asked, glancing at them.

"Miller Lite." Steve told her.

"Put it on our tab Kitten. You know we're good for it." Clint told her.

"Sure thing Mr. Barton. I'll get those drinks out for you three in just a sec." Kitten said, turning on her heel to return to the bar.

"She seems like a good kid." Steve said softly.

"Miranda adopted her after her parents died when she was little. She's Miranda's pride and joy. But yeah... she's a good kid. They're both good people." Tasha agreed.

A couple of hours, several drinks and a few plates of fried chicken later, they were all leaning on each other as they walked the four blocks back to Clint's apartment. Steve was nowhere near drunk but Clint and Tasha were both buzzed... slightly. "I will give you two this: best fried chicken I've had in a long time." Steve laughed.

"Best chicken in New York." Tasha reminded him.

"I'll agree to that." Clint and Steve both said and then Clint burst in giggles. Steve squeezed Clint's shoulder and messed up the archer's hair.

"Down Cap. He's mine." Tasha laughed. Steve blushed and stammered, which made Clint howl in laughter.

"You know Steve... you're not so bad." Clint said, once he settled down.

"Next time drinks are on me. My place." Steve smirked, still blushing slightly.

"We're good with that." Tasha said, looking over at Clint.

"Next week?" Clint asked.

"Saturday night." Steve agreed as the pair of assassins headed up to Clint's apartment. Steve watched them until they disappeared first into the darkness of the stairwell, then the bright light of Clint's doorway. He felt a little jealous. They had each other at the end of the night. All he had was an empty apartment and his memories.

"Hey Steve?" The soldier took a step back and looked up at the open window a few floors up. Clint was looking down at him from above, sharp eyes peering through the darkness despite their alcohol glaze.

"Yeah?" Steve asked, cocking his head.

"Why don't you come back up? Doubt we'll be getting much sleep tonight and we'd appreciate the company." Clint called down quietly so not to wake his neighbors.

"You sure?" the soldier asked, still uncertain and shy. But considerable less so than he had been earlier in the night.

"Wouldn't offer if we weren't. Door's unlocked." Clint said, disappearing back into the apartment.

Steve smiled and made his way upstairs. As Clint had said, the door was unlocked. The apartment was brightly lit and felt warm. "Make yourself at home Cap. Tasha's making coffee." Clint said, from where he stood by a bookshelf. Home... that was a word Steve missed.


End file.
